Thursday, March 16, 2023


It seems almost 
ridiculous how 
all of life's particulars 

stubbornly refuse, 
over time, to refine—

how blood 
and saliva don't distill 
like a wine—

how frangible 
stem cells don't 
collapse, they multiply. 

But at least we catch 
a break when all the dots 
start to connect, 

and all of those 
stubborn, hard knots 
where life's events 

soon will get 
fused to our biased 
remembrances of them 

eventually combine, 
and then cement 
into a spine—

from which long, 
nervy pipes unspool 
and start winding

with generous 
thickness through all 
we now are 

to structure and 
nourish and, eventually, 
to animate 

some overlaid 
insouciant part, which 
didn't used to be there 

into a piece of 
appreciable art.